Because This Is Rikkai Dai
by jellinor
Summary: And there, practically floating down the last few steps and through the metal gate, immaculately clad as always in proud Rikkai Dai yellow, which even Sanada had to admit was wholly unflattering in its excruciating brightness, was none other than Yukimura Seiichi, age fourteen and the demonic Child of God. One-shot.


Author's Note: A humble attempt at Rikkai Dai humour from waaay back in the days of yore; since mercilessly redrafted and finally repackaged in its current form with a new, snazzy title. There might still be a precious few that remember the original, significantly shorter "This Is Rikkai Dai", and I can only beg for your understanding and forgiveness for essentially double-posting the story (though it has been much improved, I think). As always, **sharing** **is** **caring** and much appreciated! (^.^)/

Disclaimer: Sadly, _The_ _Prince_ _of_ _Tennis_ does not belong to me. Nor do I claim any rights to Cadbury Adam's Bubblicious Savage Sour Apple bubblegum or to The Bard's _Romeo_ _and_ _Juliet_.

* * *

**Because This Is Rikkai Dai**

-#-

It was an unnaturally hot summer's afternoon in Kanagawa Prefecture ("Senpai, I'm _dying_! It's gotta be like a BILLION freakin' degrees out here!" "...I'm sure it's not quite as much as a billion, Akaya. To be exact, today is—" "AKAYA! Twenty laps around the courts for wasting valuable time!" "But—" "Forty!"), so it was in no way unexpected that the Rikkai Dai boys weren't feeling particularly appreciative of the gruelling practise schedule imposed upon them by their stone-faced fukubuchou. Of course, that was not to say that said stone-faced fukubuchou, watchfulness incarnate and looming over his unfortunate teammates in full black and yellow battle regalia as per usual, didn't feel some compassion for his sweaty, unhappy-looking crew. Sanada was, after all, contrary to widespread popular belief, only human and did not enjoy standing under the burning sun (wearing complete uniform, which in his case just happened to be both long-sleeved and pant-legged, topped off with a perfectly heat-absorbing black cap) any more than the next man.

But the weather aside, there was the not-so small matter of Seigaku to consider. And after Rikkai's shocking loss at the Kantou Regional final, wholly unanticipated even by Yanagi, it wasn't as if he (and therefore, not anyone else either) had a choice: in the wake of that unpleasant wakeup call, tennis had assumed an even more urgent sense of life and death than ever before. Now it was no longer a relatively uncomplicated matter of personal pride; instead, the good name and reputation of Rikkai Dai Fuzokuchuu's Tennis Club had been forever tarnished and there was no way that he, Sanada Genichirou – the Emperor – would stand for any more disgrace.

However, after about an hour's worth of disgruntled grumbling (but nevertheless obedient participation), Sanada sensed the first hushed signs of rebellion. And, naturally, the vice-captain did what he usually did to quell any and all ambition to mischief: he assigned laps. Sanada's (too) long experience with dealing with the spirited elite members of the boys' tennis club had taught him that 'positive reinforcement' had nothing on the merits of some old-fashioned punishment and that several laps around the courts produced the most satisfying results. But while this tried and tested method for deterring certain members of his team from committing their usual acts of disruption and devilry should have worked (and in all likelihood would have, too, hadn't it been so damn hot!), the Fates seemed unusually insistent on giving him the finger – not ten minutes later, full-blown chaos had broken out all around him, and mutiny was a fact.

"Too slow, seaweed head! Too slow!"

Rikkai's resident trickster was teasing their youngest while skipping about the tennis courts, waving something that looked too much like a green stick to be anything else, in the air triumphantly.

"No wonder you got your chubby little ass kicked by that Fuji!" he crooned, and Kirihara Akaya literally saw red.

"WHY YOU!" he snarled, all feral and bruised pride, lashing out at his older teammate who dared to just laugh in his face and dodge the attack with infuriating ease. "Stand still, senpai!"

But Niou Masaharu, who had remained calm and completely unfazed by the outburst, simply looked down at his fuming kouhai imperiously. "Brat, you're a hundred years too early if you think a slowpoke like you could land one on the Trickster!"

Plotting revenge on those Seigaturds from Tokyo or not; hell, Niou couldn't help it. Not only was it fucking _hot_ outside, but Akaya was being even more annoying than usual (not that the tadpole didn't make for an enticing target any day of the week: kid was gifted with a near-nonexistent fuse and absolutely no self-control) and Sanada had entered his Drill Sergeant from Hell-mode and was well on his way of beating out everyone's will to live with their own tennis racquets. Clearly, the situation couldn't be allowed to go on, and Rikkai's Trickster figured that since things really couldn't get much worse than they already were, he might as well accept the challenge and work a bit of his magic.

They would thank him later.

"Oi, seaweed head, is that all you've got?"

"I'll _crush_ you! I swear I'll—"

Bless. Niou regarded the fruit of his labour with some affection, ignoring the irate second-year's rant about revenge or whatnot. It was almost too easy: bait him just a little, push his buttons just so and trust the kid to deliver. People could say what they wanted about their self-proclaimed Ace (and Niou knew that they did), but at least Akaya was reliable like that. But now for the real fun... Niou had no doubts that Sanada the Killjoy would wrestle himself to some control over the situation sooner or later (Sanada was a determined bastard so it was inevitable, really), but he'd be damned if he couldn't keep the ball spinning for at least another twenty minutes. After all, their fukubuchou wasn't the only one with a reputation to worry about, and Niou was rather proud of his uncanny ability to cause mayhem.

"Don't be like that," he pleaded with such a genuine show of sincerity that even Yagyuu (who understood these things better than most) looked mildly amused. "Aka-CHAN, it isn't polite!"

Akaya clenched his hands into two hard fists at his sides, quietly contemplating whether or not murder was really worth it.

"Aka-chan, are you listening?"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" the junior finally howled after deciding that there was a fair chance that they would let him play tennis in prison.

"Call you what?" cooed Niou, gracefully dancing out of reach of the messy ball of fury. "Your beady little eyes are adorable! And don't get me started on the hai—"

"NIOU-SENPAI!"

Akaya looked ripe to explode, and the Trickster felt that it was about time to recruit a new, unwitting victim. "Ne, what'cha think, Bunta-kun?" he grinned innocently, deftly swiping the Tensai's trademark bubblegum from his shorts pocket with astonishing skill, showcasing abilities more readily expected from a magician or professional pickpocket than from a fourteen-year-old school boy. "Wanna play?"

"What the... Niou?"

Marui Bunta had been doing his drills on a far court, quietly minding his own business and hoping that his unusually good behaviour would protect him from any more of Sanada's crazy running, when Niou suddenly bumped him before whizzing past with Akaya close at his heels. It didn't take him much time to realize that the collision certainly must have been a deliberate act; and, deeply unsettled, Marui reached into his pocket for a fresh piece of gum, only to realize that it was missing. Missing, as in _not there_; as in _gone_; and as in _being_ _waved_ _at_ _him_, from a distance, by an exuberant Niou.

On one hand, Marui knew that he should just ignore it, that he should take the high road and that he should be the bigger man... but DAMN that Niou if what he had stolen wasn't a fresh pack of Bubblicious Savage _Sour Apple_. And not only was it Marui's absolute favourite and the best gum ever made, but it was an import from the United States and only available at high-end stores, which put an _entirely_ different spin on things: teammate or not, Niou was going down.

"Oi, come back!" he shouted, shaking off Jackal who had come over from an adjacent court and was trying to hold him back. "Jackal, get off! Niou, you bastard, _gimme back my damn gum_!"

"AHAHAHAHA!"

"Bunta, come back! It's not worth it!"

"Niou-senpai! Stand still!"

"Don't you _dare_ do anything to my gum!"

"What'cha gonna do about it, _cake-chan_?"

"...cake-WHAT?"

By the time Marui had joined Akaya in chasing Niou around the tennis courts, Sanada had nearly walked out on his team four times, and only the thought of Yukimura's pale and haggard features as Sanada solemnly swore to look after everything until he came back (and his own damn pride!) prevented him from swiftly exiting the courts and never, ever look back. Honestly, just how Yukimura managed on a daily basis, Sanada would never know – only Kami-sama knew that the Rikkai regulars were a lively bunch even on a good day – but how many times hadn't a single smile silenced even Akaya's motor mouth? A born leader, something about the captain demanded respect, though it did help that Yukimura could be scary as heck when he put his mind to it (though, this was something that Sanada would rather die a slow and painful death for than ever disclosing out loud).

The long-suffering vice-captain sighed, only narrowly resisting the urge to massage his temples; showing any signs of weakness in the presence of the wild, bloodthirsty beasts otherwise known as the tennis team, was like begging them to cause even more trouble. So instead, he glanced over to the tall, lanky boy rooted to his immediate right, vaguely hoping for some guidance. But Yanagi Renji, the Master of Data Tennis and fellow Rikkai Dai Demon, was quietly overlooking the three-man pandemonium through his perpetually drawn eyelids, calm and impassive as ever. Dutifully clad in his yellow jersey despite the heat, he was clutching a tennis racquet, which wouldn't have been at all out of place had it been one of Yanagi's own. It was only after closer inspection (the tell-tale damage along the frame was completely uncharacteristic of Yanagi) that Sanada realized that it could belong to none other than their bratty, self-proclaimed Ace, and this discovery was rather, well, unnerving on one level (because just how the hell did that Yanagi know these things, anyway?), but the vice-captain had to hand it to the strategist and his impressive flair for accurate predictions.

"Taking into account the weather forecast for today and also Niou and Akaya's respective behavioural patterns, conflict between the two was inevitable," Yanagi explained matter-of-factly in a low voice. "We can't afford any unnecessary injuries before the Nationals, especially not now. I was merely taking proper precautions."

Sanada nodded his approval before regretfully forcing his attention back to the troublesome trio, which was still wreaking havoc on his tennis courts.

"AKAYA! Stop chasing Niou!" he barked with as much authority as he could, vaguely relieved that this extra weekend practise had been scheduled for regulars only. He would never have lived it down in front of the eyes of the whole club. "NIOU! Don't toss the gum to Akaya! Marui, don't you DARE drag Jackal into this!"

But to no avail. They were far too involved in their cat-mouse-gum chase to pay any attention whatsoever.

_Mattaku_. Sanada's eyes narrowed into thin slits as the root to his throbbing temples swerved into focus: Niou.

So he turned to address the (supposed) Gentleman of the tennis team (whom Sanada suspected fully capable of intricate and devious enough schemes to make even his doubles partner proud; one did not simply walk away from prolonged exposure to Niou unharmed), who was casually leaning against the chain link fence, fanning himself with a volume of Shakespeare. "Yagyuu!" he ordered. "Rein in Niou."

"Certainly, Sanada-kun."

The bespectacled youth politely nodded his accord before carefully putting away his book in one of the side pockets of his tennis bag.

Yagyuu Hiroshi had retired to the shadows once his mischievous doubles partner started to seriously taunt their junior, content with watching the on-goings spiral out of control from a comfortable distance. Then, when Marui-kun was also dragged into the conflict, Yagyuu knew that they would be in it for the long haul for sure, and had thus pulled out his copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ – a school assignment and only marginally more interesting than watching Niou-kun successfully bait both Kirihara-kun and Marui-kun, before having them turn on each other. But if Sanada-fukubuchou-kun requested his assistance, who was he to refuse? Especially so, when the aforementioned fukubuchou possessed the power of assign them as many laps around the tennis courts as his unforgiving little heart desired; because, if sufficiently provoked, Sanada-kun would. Oh yes, Yagyuu held no illusions of otherwise.

In the corner of his eye, Yagyuu observed something white-bluish gallop towards him, and he expertly folded out one of his legs to obstruct its path. Not three seconds later, Niou-kun had tripped over it, and Yagyuu launched a half-hearted attempt to chastise his doubles partner.

"Niou-kun," he started, somewhat seriously, though the former golf player held very little real interest in what Niou-kun did or did not do, provided that it didn't involve him. "You heard Sanada-kun. Stop running around and be reasonable."

"Make me, Yaaaaagyuu," drawled the troublemaker with relish. Then, flashing his now twitching teammate a toothy grin, he picked himself off of the ground to be on his merry way once more.

Seeing Yagyuu's blatant failure at talking some sense into Niou, Sanada gave up all pretences to self-restraint and bellowed, "NIOU! IF YOU DON'T COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT—"

"_Genichirou_."

There was a strange, tense quality to Yanagi's sudden interjection, which stopped him mid-breath, but before Sanada could properly demand an explanation (or Yanagi had a chance to offer one at his own accord), Akaya had stopped dead in his tracks, dark eyes bulging out of their sockets.

"N-Nani!" he stuttered, stumbling over his own words. "Bu... Buchou?"

"What?" Niou was sniggering condescendingly at his stupid kouhai, carelessly throwing Marui's coveted bubblegum at his head. "Has the heat finally gotten to you, Aka-chan?"

But when 'Aka-chan' didn't yell, attack or look like he was even paying any attention, the Trickster impatiently turned around to check what could have shocked the volatile second-year into silence.

"Oi, brat! What's the big—" Later, Yagyuu would swear to have heard the distinct clatter of Niou's lower jaw hitting the ground at that precise moment. _"Yu-Yukimura."_

And so, one by one, Rikkai Dai Fuzokuchuu's tennis elite turned their heads towards the path leading to the tennis courts. But not another word was spoken, because there, _floating_ down the last few steps and through the metal gate, and immaculately clad in Rikkai Dai yellow (which even Sanada had to admit was wholly unflattering in its excruciating brightness), was their much missed and much talked-about captain. Yukimura Seiichi, age fourteen and already feared nationwide as the demonic Child of God, was proudly striding towards his dumbstruck teammates, arms resolutely crossed over his chest in front of him and with a green headband neatly in place among perfectly tousled locks; a truly awe-inspiring sight with his jacket elegantly draped over his slender shoulders, billowing from behind him in the mild breeze, and a predatory smile gracing his lips.

As he watched the apparition drift closer, the Gentleman personally entertained the idea of some sort of heatstroke until he took note of Jackal-kun's puzzled expression. Jackal-kun was one of the more reliable members of the team, so despite of it all, Yagyuu could be neither delirious nor overheated; the boy walking towards them was real. Yukimura-kun was _real_, and this could only mean that he had finally come back.

Yanagi, on his part, was busying himself with calculations: the likelihood that they were all experiencing a collective bout of hallucination was only 0.169%, even when factoring in present levels of physical exhaustion, probable dehydration and the added mental stress from the Seigaku Incident at Prefecturals. The probability that this person indeed was Seiichi in the flesh was nearly 1, and this left Rikkai's resident number-cruncher feeling both pleased and a tad annoyed; according to the Master's carefully formulated predictions, only a measly 14.7% had been in favour of Seiichi choosing this particular time and day to stage his reappearance. Of course, Yanagi had correctly pinpointed this week as the One; Seiichi had been recovering at his home for nearly two whole weeks and was due to return any day now, but the strategist had been embarrassedly confident – though, who in his right, logical mind would ignore a convincing 78.3% in favour of – that their captain would wait another two days. But then he supposed that he should have known better than trying to predict the actions of the Child of God. After all, Seiichi had a well-documented and irritating habit of continuously defying the patterns of his own data, and some things never changed.

Shocked silence prevailed as Yukimura took up his rightful place between Sanada and Yanagi, thus completing the fearsome Rikkai Dai troika; and so it might have continued for another couple of minutes at least, hadn't it been for the sudden pop! of Marui's gum, seemingly demanding from them some kind of intelligent, and verbal, response. And never one to disappoint, especially not where his captain was concerned, Sanada dutifully cleared his throat.

"Yukimura," he started, but was interrupted by a warm smile and a hand placed upon his arm.

"Sanada," said the blue-haired teen serenely, calmly acknowledged his friend and second, simultaneously signalling that he would be taking over now _thank you very much_, before turning to address the rest of his now-motionless mass of loyal underlings.

"Everyone." Yukimura's gentle smile widened by just a fraction and even Niou inadvertently took half a step back. "I would be very interested in hearing how _my_ Rikkai Dai turned into a zoo in my absence. I might have expected something like this from Fudomine or Yamabuki, but tell me, since when were we either of those schools?"

"...eh."

The Trickster was struggling to maintain his composure under the full brunt of the Yukimura Charm Beam of Doom, fervently wishing that Yukimura would find some other goddamn victim to pick on.

"Who are we?" The kindness in Yukimura's expressive eyes contained not a shred of mercy.

"We're Rikkai Dai," replied Niou as boldly as he dared, which really didn't amount to very much. This alone would be enough to provide Akaya with enough ammunition to last him a lifetime.

The tennis captain nodded in agreement, visibly pleased with the answer, and Niou was still fighting the urge to cry with relief when he was hit across the face with the next question. "And what is it, then, that we do?"

"We, eh... We..."

Niou Masaharu's resolve not to break down into a blubbery, incoherent mess in front of his teammates was crumbling faster than a cookie within reach of Bunta's greedy little fingers, and not one of the selfish bastards, who dared to call themselves his team, seemed ready to step in, be a pal and do something. But even so, all was not lost, because there was still _Yagyuu._ In this, his hour of dire need, Yagyuu was sure to help him. Yagyuu the Gentleman, Yagyuu the Chivalrous, Yagyuu the Loyal; Yagyuu, his own fucking doubles partner would come to his rescue. There simply was no way that he wouldn't.

And so, brimming with confidence that appropriate diversion was on its way, Niou waited; Niou cast a few irritated glances; Niou stared pointedly; Niou fired off his most menacing glare. But Yagyuu just stood there, refusing to even make eye-contact with him.

So. That was it, was it? Yagyuu, former friend and a selfish, selfish bastard, was putting his own survival first, leaving Niou on his own with a Yukimura who was growing more and more impatient by the second, and... Kami, if he wasn't too young to die!

Yagyuu's ultimate act of betrayal made it all the more surprising when Akaya finally came to his aid:

"Win," he muttered, not daring to look his buchou straight in the eye. "We win."

"Yeah. Tennis matches and stuff," added Marui, reluctantly, anxiously working away on his gum and looking very much like a hamster in extreme distress. "We always win our tennis matches and stuff. Right, Jackal?"

Jackal Kuwahara wasn't deaf to the obvious plea in Bunta's voice (he only wished that he was) and thus felt obliged to nod, which he did. And this valiant show of bravery and solidarity between tennis partners made Niou's skin _crawl_ with annoyance.

"That we do," Yukimura finally agreed to everyone's immense and premature joy. "HOWEVER. We do _not_ run around on the tennis courts like wild animals. This place is not Rokkaku, is that understood?"

"Hai" they chorused, much too intimidated to do anything else.

"Very good."

The regulars held their breaths as slender fingers tugged at a few stray locks of hair.

"Everyone, fifty laps around the courts if you please..."

Nobody dared to move.

"_Now_."

Requiring no further encouragement, Niou, Akaya, Jackal, Yagyuu and Marui set off in quiet panic, happily leaving their former grievances and complaints in the dust behind them; and Sanada, who had watched their instant transformation from Creatures of the Underworld to perfectly behaved tennis players, was beyond awed.

"Yuki—"

"_Sanada_." The captain's voice was dangerously silky. "That includes you."

Yanagi nearly shook his head in bemused wonder as the infamous Emperor immediately and obediently set off after the rest of the team. It had taken Seiichi only four words and a heartbeat to reclaim his position at the top of their domestic hierarchy; not that the Master had even considered the possibility that Genichirou might fight him for it. Until now the God-given right to rule their precious turfs of asphalted courts had been his to use (and abuse) at his own discretion, but when said deity demanded back his absolute authority, it was foolish not to oblige. (Besides, even with Seiichi back to business as usual, Genichirou had lost none of his power to assign laps whenever he saw fit.)

"Oi! Sanada-fukubuchou!" Akaya was slowly bouncing back to his normal, self-assured self, feeling confident enough now that buchou no longer was looking directly at him. "Are you coming or what?"

"Kirihara-kun, remember who you're talking to," replied Yagyuu disapprovingly. Even though he had eventually been forced to privately accept that Kirihara-kun was impossible (and to seriously reprimand him for his serial-offending ways was a complete waste of breathe, since he was guaranteed to do it again), it did in no way mean that the Gentleman would just let it slide. "Sanada-kun is an upperclassman."

"Who will make you run until your short little legs fall off," chimed Niou in from somewhere behind Yagyuu. "Yukimura might be back, but don't go pushing your luck, seaweed head."

The junior immediately bristled. "Don't call me that!"

The Trickster grinned. Sometimes it was just too easy. "Why's that, Aka-chan?"

"YOU JUST WAIT, NIOU-SENPAI!"

"Oi, oi, what's this? You really think that you can keep up with me?"

"There's nothing I can't beat you at, senpai! I'll crush—"

"AKAYA! NIOU!" A harsh, monotonous voice thundered overhead, and Jackal hoped that it was only his overworked nerves, but didn't it sound a bit too cheerful? "Ten extra laps, each!"

-#-

Yukimura watched his team turn a corner, momentarily disappearing from view completely, before addressing the only one of the regulars to have escaped punishment. "Renji," he said simply.

"Seiichi," replied Yanagi solemnly and in lack of anything else. "Welcome back."

(Of course, he left the 'from all of us' unsaid. It wasn't necessary, because the Master knew with 88.5% certainty that Seiichi just _knew_.)

"Yes, I'm back. I'm finally back." Yukimura was slowly taking it all in: his tennis courts, his team, the noise, the smell, the feeling of being home. Being back where he belonged. Then he added, "It really has been a while, hasn't it..."

It wasn't like the Child of God to be so pensive, but it was a sharp reminder that he indeed had been out for the count.

"Thank you, Renji." Yukimura's voice was quiet. "For everything. I sometimes wondered if I would ever come back."

"You could have said something," the data-specialist finally said, breaking the silence. But it wasn't an accusation; it was an observation. "We have been waiting," he added.

"I suppose," Yukimura conceded at last, sounding mildly apologetic.

Yanagi raised an eyebrow. _Then why didn't you?_

"I didn't know when they would let me back." Yukimura sighed. "And I wanted it to be a surprise. Though, had I known..." the boy trailed off, clearly referring to the fact that a majority of the first stringers were currently running punishment laps.

"Despite recent setbacks, we did work hard in your absence," the Master felt obliged to protest. "Especially Genichirou."

"I wouldn't have expected anything less," answered Yukimura flatly, just as Yanagi had predicted that he would, "from any of you."

The Child of God straightened, his usual smile securely back in place by the time the team came into view once more. Sanada had taken the lead, stoically ignoring a determined-looking Akaya close at his heels. Niou and Yagyuu were running side by side, past differences forgiven and forgotten for the present moment at least, as were Jackal and Marui.

"Because this is Rikkai Dai," continued the captain fondly, as his ears picked up on the jokes, good-natured taunts, threats and overall childishness.

Yanagi could only nod in agreement.


End file.
